Problems with Potter
by Lily Itriwi
Summary: Harry comes back to school, absolutely drop-dead gorgeous - and a certain blonde wishes to wreak his revenge for Harry stealing his thunder...
1. Default Chapter

_This ficlet is a scene I wrote for a writing competition celebrating the release of OotP – to write a scene you would include in the fifth book. I won, and got to unveil the book in my local bookshop and got the very first copy in my town! Yay! But anyway, that's beside the point. This is a humourous fic, developed from an idea I got from reading Ari Munami's 'Seamus is Seamus and You are Yourself', which is an amazing fic, and kudos to her!  This little scene has been floating around in my head for a while. The first section is really just to set the scene. Oh, and don't take it too seriously, either…_

It surprised no one more than Harry when, over the summer before fifth year, he finally got his long-awaited growth spurt. He filled out, too, after endless hours of Dursley-induced labour. His skin now glowed golden from the hours out in the sun, and he'd finally grown into his huge green eyes.

            It was his friends, however, who were in for a shock when they met him in Diagon Alley on the last day of the holidays. Ron and Hermione waited impatiently, sat at one of the small tables outside Florean Fortesque's ice-cream parlour. Their best friend was rather late, and their imaginations, rather paranoid after four years of near-death experiences, were running riot, full of images of torture at the hands of Deatheaters or the Dursleys.

            The streets seemed rather empty, and the reason soon became clear as a huge chattering crowd rounded the corner. They waited impatiently for it to pass them by, peering over the heads of the mob in a effort to see if Harry was behind them. That was until Hermione's sharp ears picked up on the words "Harry Potter" among the excited gabble.

            She rounded on the nearest person, a slight, nervous-looking witch of about fourteen, who was trying in vain to force her way towards the centre of the crowd.

            "All right, what's this about?" Hermione demanded. "What about him? Where is… Harry!?" her voice trailed off in a shocked squeak as her mouth dropped open. She didn't need to turn and look at Ron to know that his had done the same.

            Instead of the scrawny, messy-haired teenager she remembered from only a few months ago, standing before them was absolutely _the_ most devastatingly gorgeous man she'd ever seen. Tall – even taller than Ron, by several inches – with long, silky jet black hair and a body to die for, was her best friend Harry. Her breathing quickened and she began to feel rather _warm_ as her shocked gaze travelled up his body to his face. Harry's sparkling emerald eyes were breathtaking, having finally lost the haunted look that had darkened them at the end of their fourth year. Harry, who hadn't yet noticed her and Ron, was blushing slightly from the attention he was getting, but there was an imperceptible difference about him. He was more confident, more comfortable with his fame, that was certain, and seemed to radiate a golden aura of power and warmth. _Charismatic_ was perhaps the word Hermione was looking for, although it seemed inadequate. Harry definitely had presence.

            But then he turned and saw them, and as his chiselled face split into a wide smile, Hermione felt her knees weaken and had to stumble backwards into the table to support herself. Beside her, Ron's legs had given out completely, and he collapsed awkwardly into his chair, still gawping open-mouthed. Harry called over to them as he made his way through the crowd, who were reluctant to let him go. "Ron! Hermione! It's great to see you guys!"

            Hermione just about managed to stammer out a greeting before Harry sat down beside her and began to chatter about his summer.


	2. The Duel

_Okay, so that was just to set the scene somewhat. The next section takes places several months later, after Harry, oblivious as always, has finally been convinced that he has now become gorgeous. The press have been hounding him relentlessly, and Harry's nearing the end of his tether…_

_***_

            "Potter!"

            As Harry walked down the corridor towards Transfiguration, leaving giggling girls in his wake, he stopped in his tracks as he heard a shout.

            "Potter!"

            Alarmed, Harry jerked his head around to see if he could see who was calling him. The tone was distinctly Snape-like, full of undisguised hatred and malice, but it was definitely not Snape's voice. Harry mentally reviewed the list of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. Was there one that could have altered Snape's voice?

            "Potter! Where the hell is Potter?!"

            But no. The figure rounding the corner, with dishevelled blonde hair and a murderous glint in his eyes was in no way, shape or form Severus Snape.

            A rather large crowd had by now started to gather in the corridor, risking lost house points rather than miss the spectacle that was sure to come. After all, whenever Harry Potter was involved, it was sure to be good.

            Harry himself was staring, bewildered, at the murderous looking figure approaching him. It was several seconds before he realised who it was. Shocked, Harry stammered out, "L-Loc-Lockhart!?!"

            The toothy grin of a few years ago was not at all in evidence any longer. Instead, a venomous sneer graced Gilderoy Lockhart's face as he glared at Harry, brandishing a magazine.

            "Five years, Potter! Five years in a row! I was close, so close to breaking the record! I'd have had Witch Weekly's Most Charming Smile of All Time! But no. No!"

            Harry started to back away nervously. Lockhart was speaking so forcefully that flecks of spittle were flying from him. His eyes were wild and slightly insane. He was clearly unhinged.

            "And why not? Why did I fail to break the record? Through no fault of my own! It was you and your sidekick, Potter, that stopped me. Sabotaged me! You've been jealous of my fame ever since we first met, haven't you, Potter? Admit it! You even _flew a car to school_ to try and upstage me! But all your little ploys failed and in desperation you rendered me memory-less.

            "I warned you, Potter, I warned you back then. 'It's not all book signings and publicity photos,' I said. 'Fame's a fickle friend, Harry,' I said. Mark my words, Potter, because they've been proved true. The public will forsake you as soon as your chips are down! Look at me, Potter. Imagine my surprise, my rage, when – upon regaining my memories – I discovered that the person why had taken my place as winner of Witch Weekly's Most Charming Smile award was the very person who took me out of the running all those years ago!"

            Harry groaned as the statement sunk in and he realised he was going to be in for even _more_ press attention.

            "Not content with ruining my dreams, Potter, you sought to take my place. Even this, I might have been able to bear, but for one thing – you succeeded!

            He flung the magazine at Harry's head, although Harry's Seeker reflexes meant he caught it easily.

            It proved on closer inspection to be the latest copy of Witch Weekly, complete with a picture of Harry emerging from the showers after Quidditch practice, half naked and dripping, adorning the front cover.

"Where on earth did they get that picture?" he muttered to Hermione, who had gone rather red and trembly upon seeing it. Behind them, Colin Creevey flushed guiltily, but Harry's attention was now on the four page article within the magazine.

Harry's eyes were wide with shock and his mouth open as he read the article. "What's this?" he said incredulously. "'Harry Potter has once again beaten the odds and accomplished the all but impossible.' Come on, really! 'The teenage wizard has broken all records in not only being voted winner of Witch Weekly's Most Charming Smile award (unanimously, for the first time in the magazine's history), but also 'Most Eligible Male', 'Wizarding Role Model' and 'Best Hair'.' Merlin! Is this for real? Who on earth would vote for these things?"

He glanced around at his schoolmates, all various hues of pink, and shook his head in disbelief.

Dejectedly, Harry sunk to the ground, his head in his hands. "Blasted newspapers! Why won't they just leave me alone? Why me? _Why me!?!"___

"That's just what I ask myself, Potter." Lockhart, all but forgotten in the furore of Harry's shock and disdain at the article and everyone else's excitement over the charms of the picture of bare-chested Harry, chose this moment to make his presence felt again.

"Why you? You should not have won this! You've broken all my records! And why? You're not even that good-looking!" Everyone in the audience glared daggers at Lockhart for this statement, but he seemed not to notice. "You have usurped my rightful position, Potter! And I, Gilderoy Lockhart, Order of Merlin, third class, Honorary Member of the Dark Force Defence League and five times winner of Witch Weekly's Most Charming Smile award, will wreak my revenge!"

Harry, still sitting on the floor, rolled his eyes. "Oh. I'm _so_ scared!" he muttered, remembering the incident back in second year when Lockhart couldn't even cope with a few pixies.

At this, Lockhart's eyes blazed and he cackled maniacally, his eyes alive with insanity as he drew his wand with a flourish.

Harry, looking at Lockhart with disdain, flicked his wand and muttered, "Expelliarmus." Just as he had back in Duelling Club all those years ago, Lockhart flew backwards, his wand flying out of his reach. 

Harry got up and gave the crumpled form of Gilderoy Lockhart one last glance of contempt, before turning to head into the Transfiguration classroom. But Lockhart had recovered slightly, and wasn't giving in without a fight. Enraged, he charged at Harry, clearly ready to tear him limb from limb with his bare hands. While Lockhart was still several metres away, a sixth year Ravenclaw broke out of the horrified stupor the spectators were in, and managed to shriek out a warning.

Harry whirled, eyes alight with fury. "Musca domestica!" he yelled. Lockhart seemed to disappear, and Harry hissed out towards the place he'd last been, "There's nothing I hate more than someone who attacks when their opponent's back is turned. It's an incredibly cowardly thing to do – just what I'd expect from you, Lockhart."

And Harry turned on his heel, sweeping off down the corridor towards the Transfiguration classroom, Ron and Hermione scuttling along beside him. He left behind a crowd of whispering students and a bluebottle that flew after him, still buzzing angrily.

_            Please tell me what you think – should I develop this into a longer fic? Do you want more? What pairing?_

_Please could you also take a look at 'The Right Path', the other story I wrote for the competition, and tell me what you think of that one, too. It's more serious than this, an action/adventure/angst fic, in which Harry develops very strong powers, especially for healing, but gets into an argument with Dumbledore about how he should use them… This is NOT a Dark!Harry fic (I don't really like those). In fact, it is a Gut-WrenchinglyGood!Harry fic…_

_Thanks! _

_Peace, love and lettuce_

_fire-bird___


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